


the first time that you kissed me

by west_red



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Autumn, First Kiss, First Love, Fluff, Getting Together, Homophobic Language, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, but it's soft, i know nothing about injuries, james potter calls his friends "babe" and you can't convince me otherwise, or medicine, so soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-06
Updated: 2018-09-06
Packaged: 2019-07-07 09:16:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15905343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/west_red/pseuds/west_red
Summary: “You’re not really a git, Remus. You’re… you’re…” He struggled to find the words, nose scrunching a bit.Crazy smart? A right laugh? The love of your life?Remus thought madly. He felt scrambled, off-kilter. It was like there was an agitated wasp in his head; he willed the buzzing in his ears to stop, fearing that if he didn’t hear what Sirius said next he’d do something drastic.title from the song "mystery of love" by sufjan stevens





	the first time that you kissed me

The candles were burning lower every minute, and the Gryffindor common room was empty except for three boys huddled around the fireplace. Remus Lupin set down his quill and rubbed his hands together, simultaneously blowing on them to keep warm and cursing them for being so stiff and cold. He couldn't deny autumn was pretty, what with all the leaves changing colour and the rosy cheeks and the fireworks, but right now he'd never hated it more. 

Slughorn had just set them a mammoth essay on Everlasting Elixirs; Remus had been working on it for what felt like hours and yet he'd hardly got anything done. His parchment was covered in more scribbles and ink spills than it was in actual coherent sentences. He rubbed his sore eyes and tried not to sigh too loudly; he hadn't been sleeping well recently, the after-effects of last week's full moon still lingering. He was exhausted, and the rapidly fading light outside wasn't helping. He hated how early it got dark at this time of year.

The room was mostly silent, save for the popping of the fire and the occasional huff from the other two boys. Remus had been teaching them how to play Muggle chess and they were still trying to get the hang of it. James had his cheeks sucked in as he stared at the board, and Peter just looked bewildered. At the next sharp click-clack of a piece being set down, Remus dragged his eyes away from his friends and back to his essay. He knew what he had so far was complete and utter shite, and the rest was likely to be pretty awful too. Still, it wasn't going to write itself. 

“Ouch! Fuck.”  
Remus’ head snapped up as the portrait hole swung open, revealing the agitated face of Marlene McKinnon, and a limping Sirius Black hanging off her shoulders. They staggered through the doorway and half-fell into the nearest sofa. Sirius gingerly sank onto the cushions and swept the pile of unfinished essays and sweet wrappers onto the floor so he could stretch his swollen ankle. Marlene perched on the armrest and stroked the hair out of his eyes.

Remus had been up out of his chair the second he’d recognised them, and sprinted up the stairs to the dorm before James and Peter had even properly realised what was going on. His heart thudded against his ribs as he rummaged for the bandages hidden under his bed, a sick feeling in his stomach. Years of treating his friends’ injuries without the knowledge of Madam Pomfrey (whether that was because said injuries were caused by illegal/unexplainable activities or just because they were too caught up in their own secret world) had massively built up Remus’ healing skills so that he was now capable of using pretty advanced magic. He was more than certain he was prepared for whatever Sirius presented him with. But he still felt a creeping sense of dread every time something like this happened, no matter how experienced he was. Seeing people he cared for in pain never failed to make him feel awful.

Remus bolted down the staircase as fast as he could, and found the common room in much the same situation as it had been before, except now James and Peter were on their feet and gathered around their injured friend. Chess pieces littered the floor, having been scattered when one of them, most likely Pete, had overturned the board in their haste to get up. Remus laid out the bandage strips on the table, moved over to the couch, and began gently rolling up Sirius’ trousers, giving his knee a comforting squeeze. Out of all the other three Marauders, Sirius was the hardest to see hurt. Maybe because he was the one who put up the bravest front. Or maybe because catching a glimpse of his vulnerable side made Remus’ heart feel funny. But he’d been trying to ignore that recently. 

Glancing at his friend’s face, Remus saw it was shiny from sweat, nearly as white as his school shirt, and there were deep indents in his bottom lip from where he’d bit it to keep himself from crying out in pain. His eyes had none of their usual daredevil spark, leaving them dull instead of their normal thunderous grey. He was looking at Remus, not even trying his fake little everything-is-okay-except-it-really-isn’t smile, but suddenly clenched his eyes shut and clutched the back of his head. Marlene shushed him and smoothed her fingers over his forehead, and it was only then Remus became aware of James and Peter’s overlapping voices, eager and demanding. 

“What have you done this time, Pads?” Pete’s voice was even more high and squeaky than it normally was. This always happened when he got overexcited.  
“Why are you automatically assuming this happened because of something _I_ did, not something someone _else_ did?”  
“Because you’re literally the easiest person to provoke, babe,” James said as he rolled his eyes.  
Sirius sighed, not having the energy to grin or look sheepish. Remus slid his wand out from his pocket and charmed his Potions textbook to crash into the back of James’ head.  
“What happened, Sirius?” Remus asked softly as he began dressing Sirius’ ankle with a numbing potion.  
“Regulus and his cronies happened, that’s what.” Sirius winced and gritted his teeth as Remus brushed over a particularly tender spot.  
“Sorry! I'm sorry, Pads, it's alright. C’mon, deep breaths.”  
His chest rose and fell slowly, a little crinkle appearing between his eyebrows. Marlene started massaging it, though this seemed to deepen it rather than make it go away. Her hands moved to caress his cheeks but he ducked his head to avoid her. “Alright, alright, I’m not dying, leave off.”  
She looked concerned and threaded a finger through one of his curls. “Are you sure? Cos I’d be happy to stay and look after y-”  
“Leave off I said!” Sirius growled.  
“Don’t worry, Marlene,” Remus said, seeing the insulted look on her face. “He’ll be okay, he’s in safe-” he broke off, swallowed and murmured “safe hands now,” knowing the hands Sirius was in were probably the most dangerous in the whole school.  
“Yeah, I’m in safe hands, the safest of all hands. Remus has got me.” He looked so sincere as he said it; Remus’ insides flipped and he busied himself with applying more numbing potion.  
“Cheers, McKinnon,” Sirius muttered, causing Marlene to finally take a hint, huffing indignantly and storming up to the girls’ dorm. “Thank Merlin,” he sighed, closing his eyes. “I thought she’d never leave.”  
Remus’ mouth twitched.

“Well?!” James and Peter demanded, their patience stretched to the absolute limit.  
“They ambushed me by the greenhouses. So unoriginal, they've done that three times already, the wanks. Though this time they might have actually done some proper damage?” He lifted his head off the armrest a bit and glanced at Remus for confirmation. Remus only squeezed his knee again and reached behind to the table for the first bandage.  
“You’ll be fine, it’s just majorly bruised. Try not to put much pressure on it for a couple of days, and if it still hurts after that you may have to go to the hospital wing.”  
Sirius let out a high pitched whine. “I hate the hospital wing. It smells like sour water.”  
Remus chuckled. He was all too familiar with that smell.

“So, what, they tripped you up?” Peter’s eyes were wide and eager, no doubt desperate to hear about the damage Sirius had caused in retaliation.  
“Nah, just shouted at me from behind. Didn’t want to chip their nails is my guess. They got a bit pissy when I didn’t turn around though, so a couple of them aimed some Stinging Hexes at my head.” He rubbed the back of his skull and winced again. “That reminds me, Moony; I’m gonna need you to have a look at that later. Feels like a nasty one. Anyway, the spell hit me hard, I did this weird sideways twist and my foot got caught in a tree root. Impressive, huh?” He chuckled, and Remus breathed a little easier, knowing the pain wasn’t as bad now and that his friend was slowly coming back to himself.  
“Hang on, you didn't turn around? You didn’t shout back?” James snorted. “Who are you and what have you done with our Padfoot?”  
“Har har,” Sirius deadpanned. He slowly rolled his ankle, and sighed contentedly when it didn’t twinge.  
“What were they saying?” Peter urged.  
“Oh, the usual. Traitor, blood traitor, filthy blood traitor. Standard. Nothing too spectacular, of course; this is my baby brother we’re talking about.” Sirius’ eyes were closed once again, giving off the air of being completely unaffected by this abuse, but Remus could hear a kind of tightness in his voice instead of the jaunty tone he normally used when addressing his brother’s insults. Neither of the other boys seemed to notice, already half way through the familiar anti-Slytherin rant.

“Slimey pricks, their heads are _so _far up their own arses-”__  
“We are _so _gonna get them for this, our next prank-”__  
“I can’t _believe _you didn’t hex them back, Pads, if I’d been there-”__  
“They are _not _gonna get away with this, ugly snakes-”__

The crease between Sirius’ eyebrows was beginning to reappear. He looked absolutely exhausted, and there was this defeated feel about him, as if he’d completely given up. Remus couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this concerned about anyone. Reaching out, he gently squeezed the back of Sirius’ hand, causing his friend’s eyes to flutter open. The two shared a long look, Remus raising his eyebrows in a silent question and Sirius sleepily gazing back. A small huff from the boy on the couch propelled Remus into action, and he pushed himself up, brushing imaginary dust off his trousers in an effort to hide how much Sirius’ state was affecting him. He felt a little shaky; Sirius had never looked so unlike himself before, and he just knew that the ankle situation was only part of the reason why.

Remus’ sudden movement had caused James and Peter to stop ranting, and both looked at him in surprise, faces demanding an explanation. Remus looked down at Sirius, who was still draped over the couch. His eyes softened.  
“C’mon,” he murmured, “let’s get you upstairs.”  
“Wait, what?” James sounded indignant. “Padfoot’s fine! He was just about to help us come up with the next prank on the Slytherins, weren’t you?”  
Sirius didn’t respond.  
“I think we’ll leave this one to you and Pete, James. Now, if you’ll excuse us…” Remus poked James in the arm until he was completely out of the way of the sofa. He rolled around the chess pieces with his foot, kicking them over to Peter, who started reluctantly picking them up.

Remus leaned down to slide an arm around Sirius’ upper back, easing him up into a sitting position. Sirius twisted until both his feet were resting on the floor, his bad leg straightened so as not to disturb his ankle. His hand landed on Remus’ shoulder to keep himself steady, and the two slowly stood up. He didn’t wince as he settled his weight, and Remus breathed a sigh of relief; those numbing potions really were magic.

“Are you gonna be alright getting up the stairs like this?” he asked quietly. Sirius nodded and squeezed his shoulder.  
“I mean I could always carry you? Or I could use a weightless charm and levitate you up?” Remus teased, hoping the feeble jokes might help his friend feel a bit better. It sort of worked; Sirius rolled his eyes and cracked a tiny smile. “Just get me in a bed, you daft git.”  
“Yes, ma’am.” Remus half turned to the other boys. “Night, lads.”  
“Moony? You’re not coming back down?” Peter frowned. Remus shook his head.  
“But it’s only half five!” James sounded incredulous.  
“Well, _someone’s _got to look after this one,” Remus jerked his head towards Sirius, causing another eyeroll. “Besides, I’m still feeling a bit… dodgy. After last week.”__  
“Fair enough.”  
Chuckling at his friends’ grudging words of permission, Remus pulled Sirius closer, arm snug against hip so that he’d be supporting most of the other boy’s weight. Sirius’ hand clutched Remus’ shirt at his shoulder, and the two began shuffling across the carpet towards the staircase.  
“Feel better, mate,” James and Peter called after them as they reached the first step. Sirius merely grunted his thanks.

Their progress was agonisingly slow. Remus knew Sirius’ ankle wasn’t hurting him, but it was still tender, and the less pressure he put on it the better. They paused every couple of steps, and both were panting by the time they reached the top. Remus had to let go slightly to open the dormitory door, which made the pair of them wobble. Sirius nearly lost his balance, but Remus’ arm shot out to grasp at his waist and pressed him into his side. Sirius leaned against him heavily.  
“Don’t worry, we’re almost there,” Remus whispered into his hair, and used his free hand to push the door open. They stumbled over the threshold, and Remus was prepared to help his friend collapse onto the nearest bed (James’) but Sirius carried on limping across the room. Remus lunged after him, steering them towards Sirius’ area, but the injured boy surprised him by grabbing onto a bed post that did not belong to him. Between them, they managed to lower him down onto the bed until he was completely horizontal, his black hair fanned out around his face like a halo, and it was only when Sirius turned his head to bury his nose in the pillow that Remus realised his friend had chosen _his_ bed. And didn’t _that _do crazy things to his insides.__

He made to straighten up but a hand reached out and gripped the front of his shirt, gently guiding him down so that he was kneeling by the bed. Heart pounding, Remus glanced at Sirius, and found the other boy watching him right back. There was something warm about the way Sirius was looking at him, softening the dusky purple shadows that were forming under his eyes. His hand relaxed where it was fisted in Remus’ shirt, smoothed out the creases and slid up to rest on the side of Remus’ neck.  
“You're an angel, Moony. You really are,” he murmured, stroking his thumb in a semicircle.  
Remus swallowed as surreptitiously as he could. His mouth was dry, and there was a tight feeling in his throat. He placed a hand over the one Sirius had on his neck and threaded their fingers together.  
“Shut up,” he whispered. “All I did was get you upstairs.”  
“An angel,” Sirius insisted, his eyes slipping shut. 

Remus lowered their joined hands and gently pressed Sirius’ into the mattress. He carefully stood up and made his way over to the window. The blue-black of the sky outside painted the room, and closed in on itself like the shadow of a hand across a wall as Remus drew the curtains. Turning back around, he slipped his hand into his pocket and produced his wand, waved it once and lit the candles floating just below the ceiling. Sirius looked as though he'd melted into the sheets; Remus chuckled fondly as he strode back over to hover at the foot of the bed. 

"Why are you so far away?" Sirius breathed.  
"I'm right here," Remus laughed softly, but moved closer so he was perched on the edge of the mattress, his knee grazing Sirius' shoulder. He lightly smoothed the tip of his finger across Sirius' forehead, an echo of what Marlene had been doing earlier, except this time Sirius had the opposite reaction; the tension seeped out of his face, and he let out a blissful hum.  
"Let me have a look at your head then," Remus murmured, reluctant to disturb the peace but itching to see to the damage the Stinging Hexes had caused.  
Sirius whined unhappily, and pathetically rolled over so he was face down, nose pressed into Remus' pillow. Remus snorted, picking up his friend’s arm and letting it flop down; it felt as if it were boneless. "Jelly limbs."  
Slowly lifting Sirius' thick curls away from the back of his head, Remus winced on his behalf at the irritated red patch spanning the bottom of his skull and half his neck. A hushed incantation of the counter curse removed the rash, but Remus still worried. "Want me to dig out some more numbing potion?"  
"No," came Sirius' muffled response. "Don't hurt anymore." He sluggishly rolled over onto his back, and smiled at the sceptical look on Remus' face. "Thank you, Moonshine," he mumbled, and closed his eyes.  
Remus secretly chided himself as his heart skipped a beat, but at least it meant Sirius was capable of being ridiculous even while he was a little worse for wear. 

He wrapped his hands around Sirius’ ankles, waited until the boy’s eyes had flickered open, then started methodically unlacing his boots. Remus took extra care with the left one, easing it off as slowly as he could. He turned Sirius’ foot one way then the other, glanced at his face and found that the action hadn't hurt. Satisfied, he lowered his friend’s leg down and thumbed at the fraying edge of the bandage. Trying to muster up the courage to ask what had actually happened with Regulus, Remus gave himself a moment to just study the boy in front of him. Away from the prying personalities of the two downstairs, Sirius appeared a lot more relaxed, and much more comfortable in his own skin. His cheeks had regained some colour, and though he still looked incredibly tired, it was in a more I-need-to-be-asleep-right-now kind of way than an I-want-to-crawl-into-a-hole-right-now kind of way, which was definitely reassuring. 

Silence between the two of them had never been an issue. They knew the other inside out, and both understood the importance of speaking without words. Sirius was the only one Remus had that with; James talked non-stop, plotting and laughing and boasting and constantly searching for conversation, and Peter was either too busy eating or repeating what the others had just said. This loaded hush that fell around them was a luxury, and Remus often found himself craving it. 

Both boys were still, reveling in the absolute quiet of the moment. Soft smiles grew on each face, Sirius’ a little dim, and Remus’ throat tightened; this was his best friend, his best friend who was injured and tired and needed a good night's sleep. Deciding to leave his question for later, he leaned forward and squeezed Sirius’ ankles again.  
“Want me to help you get into your pajamas?”  
Sirius nodded meekly, so Remus reached out and tapped the side of his hip, signalling that he needed to lift. Between them, they got Sirius’ trousers off and crumpled at the end of the bed. Remus moved away to rummage under the pillow on Sirius’ own bed for his pajamas, and turned back to see Sirius undoing the last buttons on his shirt, his tie already heaped on top of his trousers. 

The novelty of seeing Sirius without his clothes had worn off; spending the full moon with three other teenage boys nearly twelve times a year had rather normalised half-naked bodies for Remus. Still, it always felt somewhat special seeing this vulnerable side of Sirius. Slipping the thin material off his shoulders, he made grabby hands at Remus, who laughed and handed him his pajama top. Getting Sirius _into_ trousers proved slightly more difficult than getting him _out_ of them, and both of them were a little out of breath as Remus lifted the duvet to let Sirius slip under it. He pulled it all the way up to his chin, and looked about ready to drift off right away, so Remus made to get up and stash his friend’s clothes in his trunk. Once again, a hand reached out towards him, only this time it caught his wrist. Sirius pulled at him weakly until he too was bundled up under the sheets. 

“I’m still in my uniform, you div,” Remus chuckled. “You gonna let me change first?”  
Sirius shook his head, and tugged until Remus was lying flat on his back with Sirius’ head pressed against his chest. “Later,” he mumbled, curling his fist onto Remus’ stomach. Remus’ insides fizzed and churned.  
“I mean, this can't be comfy for _either_ of us,” he protested. “So-”  
“Shhh,” Sirius breathed. “Later.”  
“Okay,” Remus whispered. “Later.”  
He weaved his fingers into Sirius’ curls, threading and stroking in a way he knew would help the boy drift off; Sirius liked to bound across the room and fling his head into Remus’ lap whenever he was sat on the couch reading. These moments usually ended up with both of them dozing off, Remus’ hand buried in Sirius’ hair, and Sirius’ fingers slotted between the pages of Remus’ book, determined even in sleep to keep Remus’ place marked.

After a while of trying to calm his heart-rate down, Remus peeped at Sirius’ face, intent on sliding out of bed to change and put both their clothes away, but noticed his friend’s features hadn’t slackened and relaxed the way they normally did when he slept. Holding his breath and listening to the rise and fall of Sirius’ chest, Remus realised it didn’t match the steady, drawn out pattern he was used to hearing come from across the dorm at the dead of night. Having shared a room with him for six years meant Remus had memorised Sirius’ sleeping habits. Not intentionally, of course; it just kind of happened. He really had nothing better to do as he lay there in the dark, unable to clear his mind or forget the moon, than listen to Sirius’ heavy breathing, along with Peter’s snoring and James’ slurred mumbling.

Removing his hand from his friend’s hair and sliding it down to rest on his shoulder, Remus nudged Sirius’ forehead with his nose, and addressed the subject that had clearly been plaguing him this whole time. “What happened?”  
Sirius was quiet for a long time, swirling his fingertips in loose circles across Remus’ chest. Just as Remus was about take back his question, deny he’d ever asked it, and start babbling about his doomed Potions essay, Sirius whispered into the air above them.  
“He’s just a child. And they’ve brainwashed him.”  
Instead of prying further, Remus traced Sirius’ collarbones in what he hoped was a comforting way, letting the silence settle once more. There was no point asking any more questions; Sirius would speak when he was ready to speak.  
“I was walking back from helping Hagrid dig up pumpkins.”  
Remus nodded; he’d known. The detention had been a mercifully tame punishment for a prank involving a sentient gargoyle, a bathroom flipped upside down so that the toilets hung from the ceiling and poured water on unsuspecting victims, and a mysterious pink haze that had hung around Filch’s office for days after - one of the Marauders’ more avant garde endeavours in recent months.

“He was lurking by the greenhouses with those brutes Avery and Mulciber.”  
Remus resisted an urge to growl. Though Regulus had never been a particularly delightful child, he had started his stint at Hogwarts with the same kind of breathless awe and optimism that every first year felt, and the hulking Slytherin crew had battled it out of him. Gone were his round boyish cheeks and innocent curiosity. His face was now angular and severe, with piercing eyes filled with the hunger of a man blinded by power.  
“They started calling after me, the same old stuff, nothing new. I ignored them cos I was cold and wanted to sit by the fire with you lot. Then… when I didn’t react… they called me a fag, and told me to hurry along to my crippled faggot boyfriend. They asked after your knees, wondering if I ever give you a pillow to kneel on when I shove you to the floor in front of me, cos surely I should reward you for the one thing you’re good at, the one thing I keep you around for.”  
Remus flinched. Such language rarely got to him anymore as it had often been hurled at him since he’d come out a few years before, but hearing it aimed at Sirius raised his hackles and boiled his blood. He banished the fizz in his gut at being thought of as Sirius’ boyfriend; this was not the time to be entertaining such dreams.

“So I carried on ignoring them and, well… you know the rest. Marlene spotted me crawling across the grounds. I tried to shake her but… yeah.”  
Remus bit his lip to suppress his surprise; the one thing that riled Sirius up more than anything were homophobic slurs. Remus had lost count of the times he’d had to yank him back from a fist fight with a pure-blooded bigot and bandage his knuckles. He couldn’t think why Sirius had let it go this time, even if he had desperately wanted to warm up in the common room.  
“You really… you really ignored them, after they said... all that?” he whispered.  
Sirius was quiet for a few long moments, picking at a loose thread wrapped around one of Remus’ shirt buttons. Then he spoke in the most wretched voice Remus had ever heard.  
“We all know what happened the last time I defended you, Remus.”

Remus’ chest burnt with shame. “The Prank” Sirius had pulled on Snape last year was forgiven but not yet forgotten. Though Sirius had never fully told Remus what Snape had said about him, he knew it was foul enough for Sirius to have got so angry he told Snape how to press the knot in the Whomping Willow.  
“Nothing is worth… I couldn’t risk… losing you like that again.” Sirius’ voice hitched, and Remus physically felt his heart split, shatter, break. After “The Prank,” things had been frosty between them for a couple of weeks, though Remus was less hurt that Sirius had betrayed his secret than he was bewildered that Sirius had truly meant to put Snape’s life in danger. Their feud ran deep, but he hadn’t known it was _that_ deep. It had taken a lot of thinking from Remus, persuading from James and Peter, and grieving from Sirius before things were back to normal between the two friends. And yet, something had changed. There was an awareness of each other that hadn’t been there before, one that Remus had never felt with anyone else. He was hesitant to acknowledge it, partly because it brought back so many overwhelming emotions, but also because he knew, deep down, that it meant Sirius had become the most important person in his life, the centre of his world. He agreed with Sirius; though it had ultimately brought them closer together, nothing was worth those few weeks of radio silence.

“Sirius…” he inhaled sharply, overcome with something bigger than the two of them.  
“Don’t say anything, Moony, please. Please,” Sirius gasped out, and turned his face to bury his nose under Remus’ chin. They lay there, holding each other fiercely, as if protecting the other from words unsaid. The gentle crinking of clothes from soft caresses filled the air around them, somehow louder than the wild howling of the wind outside. Remus uttered a wandless charm to close the bed curtains and drew Sirius even closer, convinced he could keep them from falling apart if only he held tight enough. The darkness enveloped them; now they could only see through touch and voice.

Sirius breathed in shakily and began to ramble. “I should have cleared off sooner, years ago. Should’ve brought him with me, escaped before our- _his_ parents had a chance to corrupt-”  
“Don’t talk hypothetically, it only tangles more knots,” Remus murmured soothingly. “You’re so young, Sirius, _both_ of you are. You couldn’t be responsible for someone else in a toxic place like that, and no one blames you for it.”  
“But maybe I could have saved him,” Sirius despaired. “He truly sees me as the enemy now. Ever since I left.”  
The night Sirius had finally run away from his family home was seared into Remus’ memory. The smudged note from Sirius that said he was half an hour from Remus’ house and _could you please please let me stay with you for the rest of the summer, Remus, I’m begging you._ The crippling panic pulsing through his body. The biting cold of the wind through his hair as he cycled faster than he ever had before, and the itching of his eyes as he clutched Sirius to his chest and rocked him back and forth as the sobs wrecked his body. The mottled, angry purple of the bruise on Sirius’ cheek, and the crestfallen yet understanding look in his eyes when Remus suggested James’ parents would definitely be more welcoming, as his father had practically locked him in his room and forbade him from communicating with anyone other than his parents, frightened of the increasing scars that littered Remus’ face and body. “I just want you to be safe, Sirius,” he had mumbled into his friend’s neck. “You won’t be safe here.”

Remus couldn’t think of anything to say; he didn’t want to sound pitying or patronising, knew that was the last thing Sirius wanted from him. Overwhelmed by the cloying guilt rolling off from Sirius in waves, he pressed his nose to the top of his friend’s head in a faux kiss, too cowardly to use his lips, and prayed it was enough.  
“We were so close before,” Sirius breathed after a while, once both boys’ eyes had slowly grown heavier in the quiet dark. “We used to plan our futures together. Auror partners, a dream team. The Black Brothers.” More silence. Then: “I guess he became the favourite son once I turned out to be a lost cause.”  
Remus winced. Sirius had received many a Howler marked with the Black family crest that had spectacularly exploded in the Great Hall over the years, but none had been as foul or as violent as the one that arrived the day after the Sorting Ceremony.

“Well, you’re definitely the Potters’ favourite son,” Remus joked feebly, hoping beyond hope he hadn’t just stuck his own foot in his mouth.  
Fortunately, Sirius huffed a laugh. “Prongs is never going to forgive me for that.”  
“And I know for a fact you’re Evans’ favourite son, too,” Remus chuckled. It was true; since Lily had realised the Marauders had somewhat grown up and now weren’t half bad in their later teenage years, she had kind of taken them under her wing. This mainly consisted of discussing rare and exotic magical sweets with Peter (and sending him carefully wrapped packages of them by owl every other week or so), fondly glaring at James as he jokingly but also not-jokingly asked her out over the Astronomy homework she was helping him with (although she had majorly warmed up to him after finding him to be a kind and thoughtful friend - and also after Snape had revealed himself to be a certified arsehole - Remus reckoned a romance between them was still not quite on the table), and silent yet comforting study sessions with Remus, armed with vast amounts of chocolate and Sugar Quills to sustain them. As for Sirius, she had taken to squeezing up with him in the deep red armchair by the fireplace in the Common Room, and tenderly but firmly insisting they braid each other’s hair and paint each other’s toenails. Once she had accepted he wasn’t a total pig, and that his pranks could actually be pretty funny rather than annoying, she now thought him a waif that needed cheer and attention, and had recently been bonding with him over their shared interest in Muggle punk music.

This comment had Sirius cackling into Remus’ collarbones. “Gross! Prongs is never going to forgive me for _that_ either! Anyway, you’re wrong, _you're_ Evans’ favourite son, no doubt. All she talks about is your swotty study dates.”  
Their laughter spiralled up towards the ceiling of Remus’ canopy bed, all the previous fear and tension seeping out of them and ballooning away. Remus was reminded of the lesson on Boggarts they’d had in Defence Against the Dark Arts a few weeks before as a soft warmth embraced them, bringing with it a sense of being cosy, of being safe. Of being together.

“You’re wonderful, you know that?” Sirius said around an audible smile. Remus froze and abruptly stopped laughing, disarmed by the sudden compliment.  
“What? You’re full of shit, mate.” He tried to brush it off, ignoring the harsh pounding of his heart.  
“You are, Remus. Don’t think I don’t notice everything you do for me.” Sirius’ voice was becoming less smiley and more sober.  
Remus shifted onto his side; their faces were now inches apart, nearly nose to nose. He paused, debating whether to say something heartfelt back or to deflect it like he normally did when he was praised. To his disappointment, but not surprise, he chose the latter. “I think I need to take another look at your head, those spells have properly messed you up.”  
“Would you just shut up and take the compliment for once, you git?” said Sirius in exasperation; the groove between his eyebrows was back (with a vengeance), and Remus noticed with a thrill of unease that his eyes had adjusted to the dark just enough to see it. A sickly feeling was creeping up his throat, a sort of niggling hunch that told him this wasn’t like the other times Sirius had praised him; he’d called him “crazy smart,” “a right laugh,” but there was a sincerity about him now that felt deeper than those casual comments. The world around Remus sharpened; everything suddenly felt very real. Still, he tried valiantly to seem normal and unaffected.

“Oh I’m a git now, am I?” he laughed (nervously), trying to aim for their familiar playful back and forth. “I thought I was wonderful, how can I be both?”  
To Remus’ dismay, Sirius did not rib him back, but instead took a few moments to blink and breathe, and then slowly cupped Remus’ cheek with his hand, a hesitant yet determined look in his eyes. “You’re not really a git, Remus. You’re… you’re…” He struggled to find the words, nose scrunching a bit.  
_Crazy smart? A right laugh? The love of your life?_ Remus thought madly. He felt scrambled, off-kilter. It was like there was an agitated wasp in his head; he willed the buzzing in his ears to stop, fearing that if he didn’t hear what Sirius said next he’d do something drastic.

“When I was little, my Uncle Alphard told me that at some point in my life, I would meet someone, and when I did, I would feel something shift in me.” Sirius’ quiet voice sounded a little caught here. Remus squeezed his hip; Alphard had recently gone into hiding to escape the Black family’s animosity. As one of the only members of Sirius’ former family that he actually liked - the other being his cousin, Andromeda - he was feeling his uncle’s disappearance keenly.  
“He said that it would feel like this person was the only person in the world, and that they would become the one person in my life.” Sirius paused, swallowed, and smoothed his thumb along the top of Remus’ cheek, seemingly torn between clenching his eyes shut and locking them with Remus’. _Be still my beating heart_ was somehow the only coherent thought in Remus’ mind, despite the hysterical edge to it. His heart was indeed whirring against his ribs, like a tiny hummingbird caught in a cage.  
“Remus. That’s what you are. You’re the one person in my life. You’re the one person I look for in a room, the one person I think about when I wake up, when I’m falling asleep, and every moment in between. You’re the centre of everything, the best thing in my life, everything I do revolves around you.” Sirius blinked rapidly, trying to stop the tell-tale tears from brimming over his eyelids, but he didn't stop tracing his thumb across Remus’ scarred face. “You’re… too good for me. I really don’t deserve you. Remus. You’re wonderful.”

The silence was thick. Remus’ tongue was dry, his throat rough. He was balanced on the middle of a seesaw; it felt like everything was happening all at once, and yet it also felt like nothing was happening at all, both at the same time. It was dizzying.  
“Say something,” Sirius whispered, and Remus was abruptly back in his body, shockingly aware of his hands and his feet, the pillow under his head. The exact points of contact where they were touching, their breath against each other’s mouths, their eyelashes against each other’s cheeks. The face of a boy so close to his. He pried his lips apart, unsure what he was about to say.  
“I’m really… your one person?” Remus murmured, the awe and uncertainty clear in his voice.  
Sirius nodded slowly, his nose trailing up one side of Remus’ and then down the other.  
“Fuck,” was the only thing Remus could manage. “Fuck.”

Time stopped then. They lay there, existing in one long moment, and nothing had ever happened before now, and nothing would ever happen again because this was all there was, the two of them together, overlapped. Remus had never felt more calm, and yet at the same time there was this electrical current zinging under his skin; almost like he was floating in the cool waters of the Great Lake whilst also sitting in a bonfire. He felt uncoordinated, clumsy as his hand came to rest on the back of Sirius’ neck, gentle to avoid aggravating the skin in case it was still tender from the Stinging Hexes. Remus felt as though his eyes were trapped by Sirius’, felt there were two paths suspended between them, leading to two entirely different futures. Which future was to be turned into reality came down to one tiny decision. And yet. To the two boys lying next to each other on an uninteresting November evening, there was nothing tiny about it. Remus saw the two paths fade into oblivion as he closed his eyes, pressed their foreheads together, then their noses, and then, after maybe a lifetime, or maybe a split-second, their lips.

They moved in harmony. Not quite a dance, as there was nothing particularly graceful about it, but more like a song that had been stuck in Remus’ head for ages, and it was only now that he could remember how all of it went, the melody, the chords, the lyrics, almost as if Sirius’ kiss had unlocked it. Everything was hazy and warm, soft in a way that Remus had never felt; Sirius’ curls were soft under his hands, Sirius’ fingers were soft on his cheeks, Sirius’ lips were soft against his lips, Sirius Sirius Sirius Si-

“Pinch me,” Sirius gasped, pulling away as though it pained him.  
“Wha?” Remus slurred, dazed by the ringing in his ears. He was suddenly aware of the deep heaving of his chest, and realised he’d forgotten to breathe, having been too focused on kissing Sirius’ (lovely) mouth, which he now belatedly saw was moving again.  
“I need to know if I’m dreaming. Pinch me,” Sirius murmured, nearly cross-eyed from how close they were, and stroking his thumb along Remus’ eyebrow.  
Remus laughed fondly and pressed the tiniest pinch into Sirius’ arm, then pinched his own thigh a little harder. Just to check.  
“Dreaming?” he asked softly.  
“Apparently not,” Sirius grinned, and kissed him again.

This one was more of a back and forth. Sirius would ask a question in the way he gripped Remus’ chin, the way he pressed his lips harder, the way his mouth stayed open in the gaps between their kisses. Remus would answer with a tilt of his head, a hand sneaking up the back of Sirius’ shirt, a blissful sigh caught between their lips. They were a jigsaw, interlocked and perfectly fitted into the circle of each other’s arms.

“How long?” Remus breathed against Sirius’ jaw.  
“Wha?” Sirius mumbled senselessly, his turn to be left disorientated.  
“How long have I been your one person?”  
Sirius’ cheeks flushed pink and he smiled sheepishly, biting his tongue between his teeth. “Since the first day I met you on the train.”  
“Fuck off!” Remus spluttered. It wasn’t even that he was _unwilling_ to believe it; it was just that it _couldn't_ be true. Logically. At all.  
“Honestly!” Sirius gazed up at him with wide, earnest eyes. “You just looked so small and young and a little lost, and something in me went ‘I am going to do everything I can to protect this boy, for as long as I can.’ From there it just kind of got… more.” He trailed off, a little embarrassed by the strength of his own feelings, and the soul-bearing honesty with which he had just revealed them. Remus’ heart jolted and started doing a frantic waltz in his chest - those were nearly the exact same thoughts _he'd_ had the first time Sirius had tumbled into his train carriage (with James) and asked with a wary look and wicked eyes: “Would it be alright if we sat with you?” To which Remus had nodded rapidly and spent the next few hours (6 years) unable to look away from the bundle of energy and mystery that wanted to sit with him and talk to him and make him laugh.

“Why didn’t you say anything??” Remus demanded.  
“I did! Like, two minutes ago!” Sirius protested. An unimpressed look from Remus told him that wouldn’t cut it, and he chuckled self-consciously. “I just had to get over my nerves first…”  
“Which took six years...” Remus couldn’t bring himself to tease properly, he was too giddy. Instead he smiled like a man utterly charmed and pressed a tender kiss to Sirius’ eyebrow.  
“I was going to ask James for help but… the way he’s handled things with Lily kind of put me off…” Sirius suddenly barked out a laugh. “We firgured our shit out before James and Lily did.”  
“Heck yeah we did!” They high-fived, then slowly let their fingers interlock, unwilling to let go of each other even for a second.  
“Yeah, James isn’t exactly the master of good ideas,” Remus said as he rolled his eyes. “Remember when he held a funeral the day before his 14th birthday to mourn the end of his 13th year alive?”  
“Hey! I thought the ceremony was very moving,” Sirius tried to say mournfully, but had to smother a snort into Remus’ shoulder. “Anyway, why didn’t _you_ say anything?”  
“It’s not exactly something you can easily slip into a casual conversation, is it? ‘Hey, Sirius, how was Transfiguration, by the way, I never want to be away from you and also I want to kiss your face, shall we go have lunch?’”  
“... You do?” Sirius murmured softly after a few beats of silence, awe filling his voice and his eyes and his whole face, and Remus… He had to. He just had to.

They met again, and Remus wondered how he had gone without this for so long. It was like there was something addictive about the gentle, lovely way Sirius’ mouth came to greet him over and over; this boy was truly magical, in every sense of the word. They loved each other slowly, without rush, and there would never be any need to rush ever again. Everything else in the world faded to nothing; all the uncertainty, and fear, and dread. The only things that existed were two boys, and a kiss that said: “I adore you.”

“Promise this is it,” Remus gasped as he pulled away, a sudden violent surge of panic jolting through his body.  
“Wha?” Sirius was still caught up in the moment, lightly tracing Remus’ lower lip with his thumb.  
“Promise this is us now. Like, we’re not going to go to sleep and then tomorrow we pretend this never happened and get really awkward with each other.” Remus didn’t know what he’d do if that happened. Something impulsive, drastic, foolish. Something worthy of a Marauder. Although he was probably the least likely of the four friends to be called overdramatic, there was a part of Remus’ brain that was convinced the world would end if Sirius got out of bed tomorrow morning without saying a word and refused to acknowledge this night had ever happened.  
Sirius tucked a piece of Remus’ hair behind his ear, and whispered his promise into the corner of his boyfriend’s mouth. “This is us now. Two one persons.”  
He curled their little fingers together in a pinky swear, and Remus laughed delightedly at how ridiculous they sounded. But he loved it. He loved _him_. And maybe it was too soon to be thinking that, to be feeling that; but then again, maybe it wasn’t. After all, he’d had six years to think about it. He squeezed Sirius’ finger with his own, and promised. “Two one persons.”

Their eyes closed, lashes resting on each other’s cheeks, and Remus felt his body give up on its battle with exhaustion. He was beaming inside at the thought of falling asleep in the arms of the boy he loved so much, when he suddenly became aware of the uncomfortable pressure of his shirt collar against his neck. He half-sighed, half-laughed. Still in his uniform.  
“Can I go change now?” he whispered.  
“Nuh uh,” Sirius hummed, pressing their noses together. “Later.”  
“Okay.” Remus smiled, overwhelmed by the hazy warmth prickling his cheeks and spreading through his body. “Later.”

And the night came. And the sky darkened. And the moon and the stars brightened. And they slept. And they loved.

**Author's Note:**

> happy autumn xoxo


End file.
